O
ne of the things I love most about traveling is that I always return home a little bit changed. But I wasn't prepared for the way the cultishly popular Indonesian island of Bali would affect me. It's not just the beautiful mix of craggy volcanoes, wide beaches, and brilliant-green rice terraces that curve and flow into one another like parts of a carefully chiseled sculpture. It's the sense of spiritualitya result of the Hinduism that's tightly woven into the culturethat exists here. Thanks to the colorful temple ceremonies (many of which are open to visitors), tiny offering baskets scattered everywhere, and the dozens of festivals and parades that happen each month, it feels palpable, even to tourists, as if it's carried on the wisps of incense and in the musicians' haunting, gonglike melodies.

Spa Menu from Como Shambhala Estate at Begawan Giri, Bali

Finding Balance

The Balinese people are renowned for their hospitality and warmth, and everyone I metwhether they were market vendors or medicine menlived up to that reputation. Coming home, I was reminded of certain things: that I should express gratitude daily for all that I have, and that a smile, not a scowl, should be my default response to the world. But as a stressed-out New Yorker who's constantly complaining that I'm too busy to exercise or cook, the idea that resonated with me the most was balance. The Balinese seem to constantly strive toward harmonywithin themselves, inside their homes, and in every relationship, even with the universe itself. That seemed like a lot to tackle, but I decided that if I could figure out what balance in my life looked like (I sensed that it didn't involve logging hour after hour in front of a laptop), I'd be off to a good start.

The Estate

So I arrived at the Como Shambhala Estate at Begawan Giri, which sits on a lush, 23-acre parcel of land outside Ubud. Formerly a high-end hotel simply called Begawan Giri, it's the kind of place that's always making lists of the world's most beautiful hotels. In 2004, Singaporean hotelier Christina Ong remade it into Bali's most substantive spa and wellness center, adding two pools, a large building for treatments, and additional guest villas. "Shambhala" is Sanskrit for "sacred place of bliss," and it's hardly an exaggeration. The Estate, which feels like a microcosm of Bali at its most idyllic, starts high on a jungle ridge and meanders 550 feet down to the fast-flowing Ayung River. Ong knew better than to tinker with the property's inherently gorgeous footprint: Though a few buildings were added, most rooms and suites are still set within five dramatic "residences," each with its own glamorous Euro-Indonesian decor scheme, infinity pool, and airy indoor-outdoor living space.

I was immediately struck by how hushed it was. The air smelled sweet and earthy, and guests padded quietly along the white stone walkways discussing afternoon plans with their personal assistants. You're assigned one for your stay, because when you're trying to turn inward, the last thing you should be bothered with is having to book your own rock-climbing session or martial arts lesson. My favorite pursuit was simple and solitary: After breakfast, I'd walk down into the Water Garden, a section of the jungle that's crisscrossed by stone staircases. As frogs chirped and crickets buzzed, I'd trek past the treehouse-style Pilates pavilion and two rock-lined swimming pools fed by a sacred spring, and finally turn around at the Ayung. During the heart-thumping walk back up the gorge, I'd rest on one of the curtained daybeds tucked in the trees.

The Spa's Food

As part of their religion, the Balinese focus heavily on dichotomies like life and death, or humans and spirits. Even the typical black-and-white checked cloths wrapped around temple statues represent the balance between good and evil. Como has its own versionwellness and indulgencewhich is especially evident in the food. The Australian-born Chris Miller, who trained with Neil Perry at Rockpool in Sydney and in the Caribbean at sister Como hotel Parrot Cay, has been charged with creating healthy dishes that will still make the Estate's jet-setting clients feel spoiled.

Click image to enlarge

The spa has two restaurants: Kudus, an Indonesian spot set inside an ornately carved wooden house that was brought over from Java, and the more modern Glow, a breezy space with an exhibition kitchen that's considered the property's eating epicenter, with an elegantly eclectic menu that mixes Asian and Mediterranean elements. In response to guest demand, Glow also has an all-day raw menu, which is filled with I-can't-believe-it's-uncooked options like pumpkin pizza, cheese and tomato lasagna, and even a lime tart. Johnson's menus are planned mostly around what's in season, which is easy to do since Bali, thanks to its dramatic elevation changes, has a year-round growing cycle. He's also committed to using sustainably raised ingredients as much as possible, and sources extensively from local free-range poultry producers and organic farmers, many of whom have started to raise new crops exclusively for the hotel.

Miller works closely with resident nutritionist Amyjo Johnson to develop each dish. They're all low in fat, sugar, and refined carbs, and Johnson says, "I know they're healthy, but they actually taste a bit naughty." Though I had no set eating plan, I found that I felt better simply choosing what appealed to me from all the menus, like the lighter version of Gado Gado, or vegetables in peanut sauce (this version has sprouts, broccoli, tofu, a cashew sauce, and lots of bold spices) or an open-faced grilled tuna steak sandwich topped with a poached organic egg. Thankfully, the strong Balinese coffee I'd grown so fond of was readily available, and alcohol can be served on request. There is also a vast menu of delicious fresh-squeezed juices.

Bringing the Spa Mind-Set Home

Click image to enlarge

Pumped full of adrenaline from daily lap swimming and a sunrise hike up a volcano, I left the Estate a few pounds lighter and determined to cultivate more of a spalike existence when I got home. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to redesign my apartment with billowing white fabric and sweet-smelling untreated wood, and I don't think I'll be finding a sacred springor even an outdoor showerin Brooklyn anytime soon. But most days I start the morning with a journal entry, bring salad for lunch (instead of being tempted by take-out), and squeeze in a 30-minute walk, all of which make me feel more in control when chaos inevitably finds me. A few times a week, I'll even meditate for ten minutes, practicing the mind-clearing tips I learned in yoga class at the Estate. I like to imagine my old habits flowing down the Ayung, and maybe being reabsorbed into the vast, mystical universe that's so revered by the Balinese.